


Just Add a Little Powdered Sugar

by tablemanners



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Competition, Denial, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, keith cooks, lance is a little shit, nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-20 03:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12424527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablemanners/pseuds/tablemanners
Summary: Keith has finally opened his very own bakery, right next to the popular flower shop The Greenhouse. Much to his dismay, the owner of The Greenhouse, Lance, is very easily offended and tends to hold a grudge. Also much to his dismay, Lance is CUTE. Shenanigans may ensue.





	1. Nice to Meet You

Keith squinted, heat engulfing him as he opened up the oven to remove the pastries. He set them down on the cooling rack before putting the next batch in at a rather swift pace. It was a quarter past seven and he would be opening in less than an hour, yet he was nowhere near as prepared as he wanted. He had meant to get there by 6:00, it being the first day and all, just to be ready. He had slept in, though, and hadn’t arrived until nearly 6:50. So here he was, sloppily icing slices of carrot cake while he managed to check on the last batch of pastries still in the oven. 

Keith had spent a good portion of his last 4 years saving to open this bakery, but now that he was here he wasn’t sure how certain he was about it. After all, it could all be for nothing. No one could show up, or he could have outrageous competition, or maybe he just won’t be as good at this as he thought he’d be. He pushed that thinking in the back of his head, however, as he stocked the display case. Half-way there.

He began mixing the dough for the cinnamon rolls, which honestly he should have done earlier, keeping a careful eye on the clock. He had time. A timer went off and he popped the pastries out of the oven, making his way through the kitchen as if it were an intricately choreographed dance. Put powdered sugar on those, put that in the fridge, turn down the oven, ice this, plate that, and—and someone was knocking? He frantically whipped his head around, glaring at the clock. 7:34. He wasn’t open for another half hour! Who the hell was knocking at his door?

“We’re closed!” He shouted, hoping the culprit would hear him and leave. Apparently not, because the knocking continued. With a sigh, he wadded up his apron and trudged over to the door, raising his eyebrows out of irritation as he pointed at the closed sign. A tall, tan man with vibrant blue eyes incessantly knocking on the glass doors. “We’re closed.” He repeated, louder, frowning. 

“I know!” The man said, smiling cheekily. “I brought flowers! I’m from next door, The Greenhouse!” He brought a bouquet of lilies out from behind him, surprising Keith. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”

“Uh, thanks,” Keith said awkwardly, not looking the man in the eye, “but I’m pretty busy. Could you come back later? I’m still preparing.” Just then, another timer went off and Keith gave the man a small wave before jolting back to the kitchen. 

Luckily, preparations went off without a hitch. He opened in time, and actually had a surprising amount of people for his opening day. He had to work frantically to keep up with stock, and with only him working the shop, it was rough. “I need to remember to print out that help wanted sign,” Keith mumbled to himself, switching out trays in the display case. Just then, a man caught his eye. The man from earlier that morning.

“Hey!” He called, bounding over to him. Up close, Keith could see he had freckles, and his nose was slightly upturned. He was cute.

“Hi,” Keith said with a strained smile, wiping his forehead. “Sorry about this morning.”

The man made some expressive gesture with his hands Keith couldn’t interpret, along with an odd “pshhaww” sound. “No worries man, you look swamped.” He held out his spare hand, an olive branch between the two of them. “I’m Lance, owner of The Greenhouse. Nice to make your acquaintance.” The man, Lance, added a wink for flourish and Keith tried not to get too flustered.

“Keith,” He said, taking the hand and giving it a firm shake. Lance’s enthusiastic shake was eccentric, but weak compared to Keith’s firm, business like grip.

“Well Keith, I brought you flowers for your opening!” Lance said, laying the bouquet from earlier down on the table. Just then, an irritated middle aged woman cleared her throat to make them aware of the growing line.

“Thanks, just a minute,” he told Lance, jumping back to the register. “What’ll you have today?” He took the woman’s order and boxed up her cookies, hoping he hadn’t made a bad impression on his opening day. It was always good to have repeat customers. Lance was still there, and though the man was nice, it was rather distracting. “Don’t you have to be at your own shop?” He asked in between customers. Lance shrugged, still standing right next to the counter. 

“My friend Hunk is watching the store right now, so I’m good.” Lance leaned back on the counter, stretching his arms. His shirt rose, showing some of his midriff. “So, cats or dogs?”

Keith appreciated the guy introducing himself, but he was beginning to get annoying. Today was incredibly important, and Keith should really be focusing on his customers, but it turned out this guy was intent on getting to know him. “I’m actually pretty busy, we can talk on my lunch break if you want,” Keith told him, counting out a kid’s change from the register. 

Lance frowned, looking back towards Keith. “Am I in the way?”

“You are kind of bugging me, yeah.” Keith grunted, not looking at the other man. As soon as the words left his mouth, he wondered if he should have said something else. Saying the other man was ‘bugging him’ might have been a bit much. 

“Oh,” Lance deadpanned, looking irked, “I see how it is.” Lance laid the flowers down on the counter rather violently, raising his eyebrows at Keith. “I was just trying to be nice, sorry fella.”

“I didn’t mean--” Keith started, but Lance was already walking away from the counter. Keith sighed, turning back to the sickly sweet couple giggling as they stared at the display case. “How can I help you?”

Keith didn’t think about the other man for the rest of the day. He managed to find a vase for the flowers and set them up on the display case. He managed to scrape through opening day and breathed out a sigh of relief when he turned the sign to ‘closed.’ Clean up took longer than he would have wanted, scrubbing down tables with sticky messes and powdered sugar, taking out a rather heavy trash bag, wiping grubby fingerprints off the display case, and worst of all, cleaning the kitchen. He washed the bowls and utensils, made sure all the ingredients were safely stored, and spent way too much time sweeping up spilt flour. He was just about done when he remembered to put up the help wanted sign. He placed it in the window, right beneath the closed sign, and smiled. A successful first day.

He did one more sweep of the store, hung his apron up, and went to lock the store. It was then he got his first look at The Greenhouse, his third look at Lance. Lance was closing up as well, watering his plants and adjusting his displays. Keith felt bad for insulting Lance, and decided to make up for it. He ran back into the shop and grabbed a spare cinnamon roll, glad he had decided to keep them. He made his way over to the store, feeling a little anxious. “Hey, Lance?” Keith called, knocking on the open door frame, “It’s Keith.”

He heard a surprised grunt, saw some rustling leaves, and then Lance appeared out of nowhere. “Hello Keith,” Lance said bitterly, sticking his tongue out at him. “What’re you doing here?” 

Keith bristled at the rude, obnoxious behavior. “I was going to apologize,” he began, watching as Lance’s face hardened. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t going to work. “You weren’t bugging me, I was just… busy?” He tried, but Lance was already smirking maliciously. 

“Shut up mullet, I don’t want to hear it.” Lance stood, hands on his hips, and glared at him. A real death glare, staring right into his soul. Forget it. If Lance was going to get so worked up over one little comment, Keith didn’t want to befriend him. 

“Well that’s just great, ‘cause I don’t want to say it anymore!” Keith held up the cinnamon roll, making sure Lance got a full understanding of his implications when he took a bite out of it. “See you tomorrow!” And with that, Keith stormed out of the stuffy flower shop and stalked home. Maybe the first day didn’t go so well. 

Keith arrived earlier the next morning, before Lance or anyone else had arrived. His preparations were a bit over the top, but he had some extra time and decided to bake while he could. He was icing small, intricate yellow flowers on a cupcake when a clatter from the front of the shop made him jump. Just great. His steady hand was pointless when he leapt two feet in the air, and the icing on that cupcake was a mess. Keith closed his eyes and focused on his breath, doing his best not to lose his temper. “What would Shiro say?” Keith mumbled, wiping off the sloppy icing. “Patience yields focus.”

His patience was ruined, however, by more banging from the front of the store. “For the love of—what is it?!” He shouted as he stomped to the front of the bakery, spotting an all too familiar face. It was Lance, bundled up in a light jacket and carrying a Starbucks as he rapped on the glass obnoxiously. He grinned when he saw Keith. It wasn’t a friendly grin, but a knowing smirk, and it scared Keith. 

“Hey mullet!” Lance called, that awful shit-eating grin on his face. “Remember Hunk? My friend who was watching the shop yesterday? Okay, so we had this deal, right, and I remembered he’s a really good chef! So! I decided to sell his cookies along with my flowers, to give you a little competition. Just cuz.” Before Keith could respond, Lance was gone, galloping over to his store. Keith was puzzled. He had a pretty good feeling people would go to the bakery to get their culinary needs rather than a flower shop, but he decided he didn’t need to go out of his way to point that out to Lance.

The flowers from the first day had begun to wilt, and looking at them soured his mood, so Keith threw them out and set out another display to replace the vase. He was ready for a successful day, as long as Lance restrained himself.

“You’re hiring?” The smaller boy—or girl, Keith wasn’t quite sure—asked, eyeing him over the counter. They had a mob of hair and oversized wire-rimmed glasses, and felt the need to stand on their toes to see eye to eye. Keith nodded, preoccupied with another customer to give the inquirer his full attention. “Excellent, I’d like to apply, please.” The person grinned rather mischievously and rocked back and forth on their feet.

“I’ll grab you an application, just give me a sec,” Keith murmured, bagging the last blueberry muffin in the display case and moving to grab another batch. When he returned, he also had a crinkled sheet of paper and a pen for the kid. 

“Thanks man,” they said, pushing their glasses up then waving as they sat at a nearby table to fill out the form. They seemed like a nice enough kid, and Keith was more than willing to give them a try.

“Keith what the FUCK!” A loud, irritable voice cried from the front entrance. Several heads turned and mothers covered their children’s ears, scandalized. 

Keith bristled, glaring at the tall man. Lance, again. He waltzed in, clad in slim khakis and a pink polo with “The Greenhouse” embroidered in green thread. Keith ran out from the counter and quickly grabbed Lance by the collar. “Please DO NOT use that language in my place of business, there are children here and I’d like to have a pretty respectable atmosphere!” Keith whisper-yelled angrily, dragging Lance out of the main room and into his kitchen. “What is it that caused you to scream obscenities at me at 11 AM?” 

Lance sniffed, holding back a chuckle and glancing down irately at Keith. “I was just shocked is all, ‘cause Hunk went and bought some of your carrot cake and damn! I was expecting subpar, stale, dry, flavorless, cardboard garbage,” Lance started, making Keith snort.

“Glad to know you thought so highly of me.”

“Lemme finish. So I tried it, so I could laugh at you, but it was the best carrot cake I’ve ever had! What the Hell do you do to it?”

Keith rolled his eyes, letting go of his grip on Lance and glancing out front. No one was in line at the moment, so he was good. “Lance, I didn’t go to culinary school for nothing. You really think someone would open a bakery if they couldn’t cook? It’s not like you opened your place knowing nothing of botany.” Lance opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it. “Lance, how often do you abandon your shop during the day?” 

“I do not abandon my shop! For your information, it’s my break.”

“So you came to scream at me about my carrot cake?”

“Obviously.”

“Alright….” Keith gave Lance a concerned gaze, trying not to worry about the obsessive compulsive behavior the other man was displaying. “How are Hunk’s cookies selling?” Keith asking, surprising himself and Lance. Neither of them expected him to remember.

“Oh, we already sold out. Most people got them with whatever flowers they bought, and Hunk didn’t make too many. Guess we weren’t really big competition.”

“Lance, you run a flower shop.” Keith raised an eyebrow, not amused by Lance’s shenanigans. “Anyway, unlike you I’ve got a store to run, so good riddance.” Keith pushed Lance out of the kitchen just as a new customer walked in. Lance glowered at him, stomping out with his hands shoved in his pockets. Keith chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Something was wrong with that guy.

“Hey mister!” The little goblin from earlier said, prodding at his shoulder. “Where should I put my application?” 

“I’ll take it, thanks,” Keith said, looking for the name on the form. Pidge. “I’ll call you back soon, Pidge.” Pidge gave him a salute then scurried out the door in a rather comical way, and that was when Keith realized they didn’t really scurry out—they glided out. On heelys™. Okay, he definitely had to hire that kid.

The rest of the day passed swiftly, and he received no more surprise visits from Lance until the evening. It wasn’t Lance at first, it was actually a big, Hulk like guy that seemed more like a teddy bear when he spoke. “Hi, I’m Hunk!” He said with a amicable grin. “I understand you and Lance got off to a bad start, but I’d like to vouch for him. Lance will hold a grudge for the smallest things for eternity, however he’s actually a really cool guy. I hope his pride doesn’t get in the way, you seem like a neat guy.”

Keith smiled, feeling touched by this kind, gentle man. “Thanks Hunk,” he said, smiling. “I definitely don’t have anything against you, but I don’t know if I’ll ever warm up to your friend. I’m not much of a people person to begin with.”

Hunk nodded understandingly. “No pressure, sorry for bothering you then. I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for drinks with us, but if you’re not comfortable with that then no worries.”

Keith paused, looking back at the man. He was inviting him to have drinks? That was so… nice. Unlike Lance. A small idea began to form in his head and he tried to hide his smirk. He had a feeling Lance wasn’t too pumped about Hunk’s invitation. “You know what? I’d love to go.” Hunk grinned, pleased he had swayed Keith’s opinion.

“Great! Just come on over to The Greenhouse once you’re done closing shop!”

“See you in a few,” Keith said with a nod. He was going to give Lance one hell of a night.


	2. I Hate You??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith takes up Hunks offer on going to a bar with him and Lance.

“And why is he here?” Lance whispered angrily, leaning closer to Hunk so their conversation remained private. 

“Because we’re nice people and he’s new?” Hunk responded, confused. Usually Lance was hyped to meet new people and loved boasting about his shop. Here they were, in the middle of the most crowded bar in their small town, all sitting in resolute silence. The flat screens were playing some ball game and creating an eerie blue glow on the three of them. Lance was still eyeballing Hunk, a disdaining sneer forming when he looked back at Keith. Keith was rather content, sipping his beer and trying to hide his gleeful expression. He could hear Lance loud and clear.

Lance grumbled something unintelligible to both of them, then turned to the bar tender and ordering tequila. “I’m gonna need to see some ID,” the bartender said admonishingly. Lance groaned, reaching into his back pocket and grabbing for his wallet. Which was not there. 

“Oh shit,” he groaned, sighing in defeat. “I think I left my wallet in the shop.” 

Hunk perked up, opportunity presenting itself. “Oh no, that’s too bad buddy. You should go get it.” Lance nodded along in agreement, but Hunk wasn’t finished. “Oh man, it’s pretty late. I don’t think it’s safe for you to go alone, pal.”

Lance shrugged. “Alright then, go with me.”

Hunk raised his eyebrows expectantly, prodding Lance along. “I don’t want to leave Keith alone! Maybe you guys should go…” Lance suppressed and irritated shriek, his eyes burning into Hunk as he completed his thought: “Together!” 

Keith bristled at this. Yes, he was all for bugging Lance, the oversensitive drama queen, but that didn’t mean we wanted to spend time alone with him. “We can all go,” Keith piped up, nudging Hunk.

“I don’t want us to lose our seats!” Hunk said, gesturing at their prime location. Which wasn’t really all that prime, but Keith had to admit Hunk had really taken the opportunity presented to him. “You guys can take some time to get to know each other, maybe get along better! We’re all friends!” 

Lance snatched his jacket off from the back of his chair, bitter and actually rather humorous. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go. Hunk, we’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Hunk waved to them, pure and happy, excited to see them partially getting along.

Once they left the building, all pretenses were dropped. “How could you leave your wallet at your shop? Are you stupid or something?” Keith asked, the chilly wind irking him.

“Oh, sorry Mr. Above-It-All, not everyone can be as pristine and perfect as you. At least I’m not emo.” Lance was smiling, challenging him. 

“You think I’m perfect? Thanks man!” Keith spat back with precision, hands settling on his hips.

Lance was mildly startled, his mouth hanging open slightly before he responded with “I’m taller!”

“No you’re not!” Keith chuckled, eyeing the other man. They were about the same height, Lance couldn’t be taller than him. “Prove it.” Lance swaggered over to him, pressing up against his back and putting his arms up to their heads. Keith sucked in a breath of air at the contact, as unsettling as it was, and tried not to think about the man next to him. 

“See? I’m taller!” He spat joyfully, pulling Keith out of his gaze. He was slightly flustered, feeling stupid after being impacted by a little physical contact.

“Maybe so. I bet I’m faster, though.” Keith said after a second of stalling, hoping Lance hadn’t noticed. Luckily, Lance was so caught up in his own ego that he paid no mind to it. 

“Yeah, sure,” he snorted, “First one to the store wins.” And with that, he took off at a sprint, leaving Keith in his dust.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Keith cried, chasing after him. He trailed after Lance, his eyes trained on the man before him. On his broad shoulders, his long legs, his arms, his… Lance shook his head, quickening his space and advancing in front of Lance. He glanced back, smirking at Lance’s flabbergasted face, and picked up his pace even more. Lance did the same, and soon they were neck and neck, dodging street signs and poles and bushes, bending corners and jumping out of the way of small children, until they reached The Greenhouse. “Ha! I won!” Keith declared, his hand slapped on the front door. 

“What? No! I won!” Lance shouted, his hand right by Keith’s, his breathing heavy and his face grim. 

Keith felt himself smiling, and faltered. Their teasing was almost fun, and with that Keith grimaced. Must have been the beer, he thought. The back of his mind reminded him it was only like a sip and a half, so NO, it was not the beer. But Keith didn’t care. “Wow, a sore loser? Who woulda thunk?”

Lance shot him a death glare, pulling out his keys and unlocking the front door. “Oh sure, I’m the sore loser, not you?”

“Usually being the sore loser implies losing.”

“Well I’m guess I’m not the sore loser then!”

They went on like that while Lance turned the shop upside down looking for his wallet. Turns out it was on the countertop, and Keith enjoys giving Lance hell for that. “Whatever!” Lance cries, throwing his hands up in the air. His shirt rises with that, and Keith ignores the way his eyes instinctively move towards the exposed skin. Just because Lance happens to be attractive didn’t mean he likes him at all. Attractive people were often the worst, and Keith felt no shame in finding Lance handsome. Well, not handsome, but not ugly. Not that he liked him at all. Scratch that, what was he thinking? He didn’t find Lance attractive at all. 

“We good to go?” Keith sounds weaker this time, and thankfully Lance failed to notice.

“Yeah, let’s not run back though,” He said, still tired from their sprint to the shop. Lance closed shop back up, making sure it was locked and the humidity was set right. Keith followed him out the door, walking in silence with Lance. They had bickered the whole way there, but both had used up their best insults. Keith wouldn’t call it a content silence, more like an awkward ‘I-don’t-like-you-but-I-don’t-have-much-of-a-choice’ atmosphere. 

By the time they got back to the bar, it felt like there were twice as many people, and karaoke had begun. “Oh shit,” Lance cried, leaping enthusiastically towards Hunk, “My song! I gotta do my song!”

Hunk smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, I already put your name in. “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira, right?”

Lance high-fived him, ignoring Keith’s disgruntled and confused facial expression. “Seriously? Shakira?” He asked, cut off by the poorly done rendition of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.”

Hunk just shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “What can I say, the man loves Shakira.” 

Lance rushed off, shoving his ID in the bartender’s face and asking for tequila again. The bartender scrutinizes the ID, but after careful consideration, slides Lance a shot. Lance throws his head back and takes one long swig, making Keith raise his eyebrows. Lance gave them an eager thumbs up before heading over to the karaoke frantically. 

Hunk and Keith watched from the bar as Lance was handed the mic from the last performer, a short girl who looked way too young to be in there, clad in a green shirt with an alien on it. Lance exchanged a few words of conversation, clearly he knew her, before the song started. “Wait, doesn’t this song have two singers? Like a call response thing?” Keith asked Hunk, still surprised by Lance’s choice in song.

“Just watch,” Hunk said, giving him and encouraging nod towards the stage. Lance had started, shouting “Shakira Shakira!” into the mic, creating a Very Loud effect. Very Loud, Too Loud. Keith jumped.

Lance lived off of the crowd’s energy, cheering them on in response to their drunken cheers. Not only did Lance sing (quite well actually,) he also danced, throwing his jacket off before the first verse and swaying his hips to the beat of the music. This definitely wasn’t his first time doing this. “I’m… going to need another drink,” Keith announced, his mouth dry and his stomach doing somersaults. He returned to Hunk with some weird concoction from the bar in his hands, and Lance had transformed to a whole new level of Karaoke. Keith was just glad Lance wasn’t grinding up against anyone. He held the mic a bit too close to his mouth and his dancing brought back memories from when he and Shiro accidentally rented Magic Mike from the Redbox. 

“He’s hilarious, isn’t he?” Hunk asked, turning towards him expectantly. Keith nodded, his eyes fixed on Lance as his body processed the alcohol he was consuming. 

“Yeah man,” He finally said before bringing the drink back up to his lips. Lance was done after what felt like years, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses before heading back to them. The short girl from earlier that had sung “Don’t Stop Believing” followed, glassing glinting in the neon glow of the bar. 

“Pidge!” Hunk cried, jumping up. “It’s been ages! How are you?” Hunk pulled ‘Pidge’ into a big hug, and the smaller person drowned in Hunk’s grasp.

“It’s been a week,” Pidge corrected, adjusting her glasses and noticing Keith. “Hey! The fella from the bakery!” She realized, waving. Keith brain decided to finally work and he realized it was the Heelys™ kid form earlier, and they were in fact still rocking their kicks. 

“Hi Pidge!” He said, smiling politely.

“You guys know each other?” Lance asked, settling down in the seat next to Keith. 

“Oh, not really,” Pidge answered for both of them, shrugging, “I applied for a job at Kogane’s joint. Hope this doesn’t hurt my chances.”

“You’re literally the only person that’s applied,” Keith told her blatantly. “I think you’ll get the job.”

“Sweet!” Pidge said, leaning back in the chair and trying to snatch Lance’s drink. 

Lance slapped her hand away quickly, jolting upright with a serious expression. “Hey!” He shouted at the smaller person, eliciting a snort from Hunk. Thankfully, karaoke didn’t last too long. Soon the pitchy, painfully drunk voices were replaced by jazzy background music, easily drowned out by the constant hum of chatter. 

He learned that Hunk was currently attending culinary school while helping Lance with his shop, and he was incredibly friendly. He stressed that he was a Hufflepuff, which Keith was pretty sure was some Harry Potter thing. Pidge was some conspiracy theory nerd, and was 100% certain that the government had already made contact with alien races and just refused to extend that information to the public. Overall, Pidge was pretty sly, and very funny. Lance was, well, Lance. Keith already had his predisposed ideals, and while Lance still tended to give him the cold shoulder, he did seem nice. A bit too eccentric for Keith, yeah, and pretty mainstream, but he seemed like an OK guy. Throughout the night, the more inebriated Keith got, the more he found his gaze lingering on Lance. He assumed it was due to their rocky relationship, and not due to the crop top Lance somehow changed into. Seriously, when did that happen?

Nonetheless, Hunk was ecstatic that their night went so well. “I’m so glad you guys are getting along!” He told them once they had left the building, the frosty air sobering Keith up a little. “See you tomorrow!”

Keith gave him a brisk wave, turning off onto his own street. Lance lingered in his thoughts, making him scrunch up his face in disgust. Or maybe just confusion. Did he still dislike Lance, or were they cool? Keith wasn’t quite sure. Hunk had said Lance hold a grudge like no one else. But did Keith even care? “I’m too tired for this,” he decided, speaking out loud to himself. He reached his apartment and threw himself on his bed, too exhausted to even take off his shoes. He just hoped he had an alarm set for the next day. Because the next day, he’d face Lance, and he didn’t know if they were friends or foes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please excuse any typos or inconsistent plot lines, I try my best to keep things in order. Please let me know what you thought in the comments! I love to hear feedback from my readers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope to get the next chapter up soon, I'm on Fall Break so I plan to complete this! I'm not very good with commitment, but hopefully I'll stay motivated! I really appreciate feedback, I love to hear what you guys think!


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